


Just a Bit More

by OneEntireBee



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Desperation, Embarrassment, Humiliation, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEntireBee/pseuds/OneEntireBee
Summary: Dracula teaches his son an important lesson about time management.





	Just a Bit More

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in an AU where Alucard is willingly working with his dad, for _*handwave*_ reasons.

Everything about tonight had been a poor decision. Drinking the extra glasses of wine his father’s servants had offered him. Heading to the evening’s strategy meeting without making a stop at his quarters. Volunteering to recite the latest intel they’d received, which meant standing up for close to half an hour and not being able to cross his legs.

Vampires had different bodily needs than humans, and half-vampires inherited some of those differences. Unfortunately, they still suffered from the need to relieve themselves. At the moment, Adrian was truly suffering from it — he was nearly sweating with the effort it took to resist sprinting out of the room in a wisp of magic. It would be highly improper, particularly in front of his father.

Said father was staring at Adrian with a raised eyebrow. “What was that about the water supply?”

Adrian realized he’d trailed off, losing himself in thought. Unsightly. He shuffled the scrolls and papers he’d been given on the library’s lectern and took a deep breath. “Drinking water in the north is primarily obtained through a series of. . . ”

On and on, the evening went. Dracula seemed to have a keen interest in every last detail of the reports. Surely he saw how his son was shifting on his feet, uncomfortable to the point of pain?

“. . . which would indicate the best point of. . . ” Adrian’s eyes squeezed shut. He bent over, clutching the lectern, reeling at the strength of the next cramp his body protested with. 

His father didn’t even ask if he was alright. “Keep going,” Dracula insisted, voice gentle but leaving no room to argue. Adrian did anyway.

“F-father. I’m sorry. May I be excused for a moment? I need to tend to a personal matter.”

Dracula shifted in his seat, bringing a clawed hand up to rest his chin on. “War leaves no time for personal matters, son.”

Adrian’s lip curled into a snarl. This was no time for philosophizing. “It’s urgent. I won’t be gone long.”

“I expected better of you, my boy. You can’t make it through a simple meeting without getting distracted? I expect that sort of poor planning from humans, not from you.”

Adrian bit his lip, his gaze falling back to the maps on the lectern. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Silk robes slid against each other as Dracula leaned forward, his dark eyes pinning Adrian to the spot. “You’re right. It won’t. To ensure that, consider this a lesson: You’ll stay here and finish your reports. All of them. No matter how long it takes.”

The letters and diagrams swam in front of Adrian’s eyes. It would take another hour to go through all the material he’d collected. He was already shaking with the effort to hold back the pressure between his legs. His mother was - had been - a doctor, and his father kept the residential areas of the castle pristine. Cleanliness had been ingrained in him from birth, as had the importance of keeping up a respectable image. The thought of soiling himself made Adrian want to die, even if his father was the only one to witness it.

His trembling fingers turned a page. “The best p-point of attack would be through the west gate, where — fuck, _fuck_ , father, I’m sorry, I _can’t_ —”

Adrian could deal with whatever consequences his father wished to give. He couldn’t handle this anymore. He needed to leave, now.

To his horror, he realized that he couldn’t.

Adrian knew of the paralyzing magic in a vampire’s gaze. He simply wasn’t used to his father using it on him. Adrian’s feet were rooted to the floor. Trying to walk, run, or fly felt about as effective as attempting to bathe in holy water without getting burned.

The realization was too much for Adrian. His father was going to force him to humiliate himself, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do but let out a soft, animal whine as wetness began to gush from between his legs.

The physical relief was nothing compared to the mortification Adrian felt. He buried his face in his hands, worrying his lower lip with his fangs, uncaring if he drew blood. His elegant, tailored pants were soaked with warmth.

A long moment passed, and Adrian could hear nothing but the sounds of himself dripping onto the wooden floor. He chanced a look above his fingertips. His father was staring with cold interest. Dracula looked like he was reading a mildly amusing book, not forcing his grown son to wet himself like an insolent child.

“Now,” Dracula said, “let this be a reminder to manage your time properly. I trust you don’t want a repeat of this incident?”

Lost for words, Adrian shook his head.

“Good. Now finish your reports.”


End file.
